Captive
by AnonymouslyStupid
Summary: L is kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery. When he is finally rescued, he starts suffering from an extreme multiple personality disorder that no one can seem to control, not even himself.
1. Chapter 1

Warning: Non-consensual rape and male/male intercourse

* * *

><p>The texture of the cloth was coarse, the friction against his closed eyes familiar. It was roughly bounded around his head; pressed tightly against his pale, smooth skin. He tried his best to pick up the words of the murmurings in the background – deep voices of several men discussing in hushed whispers. His lips quivered, a sign of weakness he did not wish to show, but escaped nonetheless. His bare feet scraped against the cool, concrete floor. He was sitting down, head leaning against the wall, his legs splayed out in a rather awkward fashion. He was not bruised too badly today, his captors had made sure of that. No one wanted 'damaged' goods.<p>

The room he was in had an unbearable musty atmosphere, not that he wasn't used to it already. A harsh pounding headache remained as he slowly inhaled and exhaled shaky breaths. He tried moving his hands, only to wince as the handcuffs dug deeper into his wounded wrists. This time, he was cleaned well before being brought here. It was probably a less run-down auction. Calculations ran in his fuzzy brain, estimating the time. In the room, his ears could only pick up the hushed whispers of the men and the ticking of the clock. That clock… why hadn't he noticed it before?

He listened closely to the clock, intent to determine the time from the unusual ticking of this particular clock. A long time ago, when he had been first kidnapped, he had noticed how the clock's ticking always sounded particularly different. Soon enough he could work out the exact time on the clock. Except this time…

_They changed the clock,_ he noted with surprise and building frustration. Why they did so, he wasn't interested to find out. It was just infuriating that now he could not know the difference from day to night. It wasn't his fault. He could easily calculate the time anytime, but before he was brought to the 'Waiting Room', he was always knocked out first. Now it was the matter of calculating how long he had been unconscious…

His ears suddenly pricked up. It was the usual messenger again. The rhythmic pattern the messenger's footsteps made; he had clearly memorized it. Thud, thud, thud, thud… A piercing creaking noise filled the air, cutting off all conversations along with it. The heavy metal door had been swung opened with a large amount of brute force, the messenger grunting as he did so. The men in the room were now silent, most likely gazing expectantly at the messenger, understanding etched on their faces.

There was silence for a few moments before he could hear the men in the room slowly getting up to their feet. _Three of them in total…_ he noted to himself. It may have seemed insignificant, but it was vital information for him. _It might prove to be useful in the near future…_

They walked towards him, shoes creating crunching sounds on the concrete floor, and stopped, just right in front of him.

"Fucking slut."

The guard pulled off the blindfold with an abrupt pull. The once-blindfolded male could now see, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting in the dimly lit room. It was glaringly bright, but as the familiar surroundings filled his eyes, he felt a little more relieved than before. It was the same procedure; something that he had gone through time and again. He knew what to expect.

The same guard squatted, bending his knees to meet his eyes.

Dark, swirling depths of black was all the guard could see in the boy's eyes. Wide eyes stared levelly at the guard, defiance apparent in those wide eyes. The guard smirked, bringing a hand near to his captive's face. Slowly and mockingly, he trailed his hand down the side of the handcuffed boy's face, reveling in the slight shivering of his slender frame.

It was an inviting sight. The guard was already quite aroused, unbearably so, but he was not to touch the goods. Orders were orders. The captive was sitting. Mysterious, enticing eyes were staring right into his soul. His moist, luscious lips were slightly parted, seductive and attractive. The guard could already imagine the exotic taste of his mouth, the skilled tongue reaching out to meet his own. More than once before, his thoughts had trailed to many other functions that mouth could be used for. How the male's mouth could wrap around his whole length, head bobbing up and down, unbelievably skilled tongue doing things that were never thought possible.

The guard leering gaze trailed down to his body; eyes taking in the lanky body that was flawless, smooth and possibly unblemished, except for the fading bruises that adorned the male's inner thighs. The bruises, if anything, made the guard's hardening length even more uncomfortable in his pants.

The captive's lean, long legs was sprawled out in front of the guard, just begging to be pushed over to reveal the tight ring of muscle that the guard would gladly pound into without much hesitation. Smooth, pale, creamy skin… Tempting and begging to be touched, to be savored… He could just push the boy down right now, and fucked him till no forever.

The guard licked his lips.

"To think, that _The_ L would be reduced to such a state. So maddeningly beautiful… I wonder how loud you will scream as you're being fucked by those pigs."

L looked at him, and then looked down again. He could not meet his eyes.

"I won't."

The guard chuckled, a deep menacing rumble. His face scrunched up, revealing rows of teeth.

"Whatever you choose to believe in, _boy_. Your pride won't last long here. You'll break soon enough."

"I won't."

The uttered words had been filled with strong determination and conviction many, many months back. However, now they were reduced to a soft, trembling tone, his voice straining as hopelessness and desperation threatened to consume him. It was as if he were saying it aloud more to convince himself than his captors. He _knew_. He knew he was slowly beginning to break. However, he managed to convince himself to believe otherwise. If not he was certain that he would have broken a long time ago.

L was a convincing liar, so perfect at it that he could even manage to trick himself into believing a beautiful lie that was his salvation.

The guard just snickered, as he roughly manhandled L out of the room. The other guards lead the way through a long hallway, while another grabbed the other side of their captive's arm, dragging and pulling L to follow.

The hallway was one L was familiar with; something he had associated with fear, uncertainty and hopelessness. It was this part of the process which he loathed the most, knowing whatever that was coming next would soon shatter his dwindling pride and sanity into pieces he could never hope to put back together.

They walked on in silence, the hallway seemingly stretching on forever. L walked on, bare feet padding on the floor, putting one step after another. He suddenly lifted his head, jet-black hair whipping back as he looked to the gloomy hallways. The lights were casting long shadows on the walls, creating a disturbing scene that would be all too familiar in horror-themed movies. It could be deemed as ironic. After all, hadn't his life somewhat turned into a horror movie? One he couldn't possibly hope to escape from? All he could hold on to were memories of the past, the glorious days of his successes, where his days had gone by just the way he wanted, where he had lived his life dedicated to his sole purpose in life: Justice.

Distractions and stimulants (primarily sweets) were minor issues as compared to Justice, the very thing he was prepared to spend his whole life upholding.

L Lawliet was a prodigy, a smug genius that the world had never failed to respect. He was L, and L was the Law. He was everything everyone else failed to be, the one whom people were in awe of. Many (due to his unorthodox methods) detested him, but his capabilities had never been doubted. L was the embodiment of Justice, unwavering and powerful.

However, now he was no longer L. Now he was a nobody, reduced to nothing but a plaything, flung around to be used by all. He didn't deserve the title L, not anymore.

They halted to a stop as the large, looming doors were in sight. L knew that it was coming. The frustrating humiliation, the terrible hurt, the hands trailing all over his body and he was… _always so_ _dirty, so disgusting, the whore that spread his legs for anyone -_

L closed his eyes.

_Dirty. Unclean. Filth. Whore._

"_Fucking slut."_

The messenger on his left pressed his forefinger against the fingerprint scanner on his pair of handcuffs. With a resonating click, the handcuffs no longer restrained his hands. L let his arms fall from the awkward position behind his back to his sides. He slowly opened his eyes.

There was no soul left in those eyes; they were dull, looking past all the things that were in front of him, all the hurt he was unable to contain slipping away from him as he was reduced to nothing.

He was just an empty shell now, just another body to be used. His mind retreated deep into himself, leaving nothing but a physical self behind. He was nobody; he could hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing.

L was no more.

* * *

><p>To the world L had been never gone, but he had been missing for eleven months now. It wasn't that Light was unhappy. No, Light was elated, ecstatic even. Now that L wasn't in the way, Kira was free to rule. Not only had the obstruction placed itself out of his way, but it had also paved an even better path for him. It was to be expected. He was God, and God deserved at least this much.<p>

Replacing L hadn't been a difficult task. Watari had violently objected, but ever since he was suddenly involved in the freak accident that had cost him his life, there was no one left to protest. Going against God's will was something even God could not forgive. Committing such a fatal mistake could only result in the appropriate punishment. Watari had already been let off easily.

Of course, he was under suspicion for some time regarding Watari's seemingly 'coincidental' death, but he cleared himself pretty quick. The team had not even realized Kira could manipulate deaths other than heart attacks, which made it fairly simple to clear himself. He had been confined, not for a long amount of time, and was cleared as soon as Misa, under his orders, started to embark on a criminal killing spree. The idiots.

L would have figured out his relatively simple plan in less than three seconds had he been still around. But of course, the fact was that he _wasn't_ around to do so. He sorely missed the intense battle of wits that had been played out between the two of them, and he had to admit that L had been a pretty good opponent. Not to say that Light was not pleased with the sudden turn of events, but he felt rather empty knowing that he would probably never be able to discover L's true name and relish in truly winning the battle between God and The L.

Light was not satisfied with his fake win. L had dropped out, which meant he had not been defeated, not entirely anyway. It frustrated him to no end that even though L was gone, he still felt as if he had lost, and L was emerging as the true winner in an roundabout way. He felt as if he was being mocked. Perhaps L thought the game to be too boring and that he was so superior to such a lowly opponent that it wasn't worth the fight.

Rage boiled to the surface as Light banged his clenched fist on the smooth desk. Was he not good enough to be deemed a worthy rival? L was going up against _God_, the best adversary L could have ever wished for. What _was_ he doing, scurrying away like a coward? The game had not ended _yet_! Time again, he had managed to defy God's will, and his final attack? To run off, leaving Light exasperated, continuously racking his brain as to how he was to determine the conclusion of the half-played battle.

Light knew that, technically, Kira had won. One look at him and it was easy to tell that Kira's will was being implemented on the world, slowly but surely. However… Light let out an annoyed growl, a display of emotions he rarely showed. This was not counted a win!

Even though he had won, now he decided that he was _refusing_ the win. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew L could do so much better than that. He knew that had the battle continued its progress, Kira had just as much of a chance as L to lose. It was because Kira _could_ lose that actually made battle thrilling. (Although he was pretty sure in the end God would prevail, as was his right.)

"Light-o?" Ryuk's head peered through the wall, bulgy eyes staring at Light. Ryuk's face was hideous (as always), its grayish hue giving him a death-like glow. His razor-like teeth shone maliciously, his black lips pulling back to show a huge grin. Before Light even rolled his eyes, his quick mind had already concluded that Ryuk's apple addiction had to stop. In the midst of conjuring plans to allow such a pleasant thought to happen, the Death God suddenly started to cackle, his annoying laughter reaching Light's ears and unfortunately staying in his brain.

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk hyuk…"

Ryuk's hyuk-ing would go on for a while, Light was certain. Light began to gently massage his temples. This was really getting on his nerves…

"What so funny, Ryuk?" Light said in a soft, resigned voice, clearly stressed. Not that he could speak any louder anyway. He currently was in the office at the police headquarters and he could not risk letting others hear him (their leader and the new successor of the L title) talking to himself, making seem as if he were a delusional fool conversing with air. (The Kira Investigation Headquarters had been shut down according to Light's orders; it was better to make sure no evidence could be found.)

"Humans are so interesting!" Ryuk said slowly with a sinister grin, cackling and clapping his hands as he did so. Light's eyes gained a wary look. Ryuk continued snickering, an evil glint present in those bulgy eyes. That glint, the laughter, the _words_… That meant…

Something had happened.

Something! After all the pains he had gone through to gain success! _What was it?_ No matter the means, he had to eliminate the obstacle! Was it L? That would explain a lot… Was L back? He suddenly pictured the detective, the memory in his mind crystal clear, as if he had just seen him the day before. Spiky, auburn hair, the wide, inquisitive eyes, the pale, flawless skin, that familiar cotton shirt with the faded jeans… Light could even remember the toes that seemed to express so much more than his face ever did; surely curling up whenever he was trying to withhold a certain emotion. Slender body, long limbs, hunched back, the smooth monotone voice. Sometimes, just sometimes, he even could picture the smug smirk, barely noticeable, flashing across his face.

From head to toe, the details rushed back to him, his nemesis… L.

A slight uneasy feeling overcame him as his stomach began to churn. He was surprised to find that he was rather excited than upset for L's return. Fulfilling his role as God would not be as bored as he thought it would be anymore…

"Tell me, Ryuk. You can have all the apples you desire."

His tone was gentle, soft, persuading… but still with a slight demanding edge to it. It was not present in his steady, smooth voice, but Ryuk could see how Light seemed to have become too normal, his perfect acting skills suppressing the anxiety hidden within. It was funny how Ryuk could only tell when Light was acting based on how different he was as compared to his Kira self. To his human audience, his acting would be perfectly unblemished; it was so real that sometimes Ryuk was rather confused himself.

Well, but Ryuk was not the kind who would read so much into such things when _apples_ were involved…

"The God of Death must not tell humans the names or life spans of individuals he sees. However, Light-o, I can tell you this: your life span is changing. No, actually, it's dwindling."

Light clenched and unclenched his fists, but kept his anger in check. It would do not good to lash out at Ryuk now, he managed to convince himself. "I know, Ryuk. Humans happen to be mortal. When a minute has passed, my life span will be reduced by a minute. Have you thought of me as an idiot this whole time?"

Ryuk huffed, fairly annoyed. The audacity of this human really infuriated him at times. This really wasn't worth the apples… Wait, actually, it was.

"Ever since L disappeared, you've been slower than usual." Ryuk's deep voice rumbled. Light's expression remained the same; patient and waiting, however inside he was slightly taken aback by the insult. "Light-o, what I'm saying is: Your lifespan is much shorter now, unnaturally so."

Realization dawned on him. Light's eyes lit up in pure panic. What? What happened? He had not traded for the shinigami eyes! No… Was Ryuk even telling the truth? He had to be. There was no reason to lie. No! NO! After all he'd done…!

He was not afraid of dying. However with him gone, the world would remain filthy, with crimes rampant on the streets and with the innocents suffering like they had always did. He was their only salvation, the one thing the good people could hold on to. He would not allow it. The cleansing of the world was far from its completion stage. He was God, and he refused to abandon his duties.

Shivering, Light stood up and slammed his hands on the table, hard. Now, he could care less about how he would look like to the colleagues outside. His death, which may happen anytime soon, was the most vital thing on his mind now. Pain shot up his arms through his palms where he slammed the table, but in his current panicked state he could feel no pain.

He could feel the seconds ticking by. He could feel his life slipping away, soon to be reduced to nothing.

"Why?" Light's response came out in a trembling, hushed whisper, his mind racing for the unseen answers, his body holding back the wave of rage that was soon to come. Why! WHY! _WhyWhyWhyWhyWhy?_

"You've been poisoned, Light-o. You're dying."

* * *

><p>Thrust. Out. Thrust. Out. Thrust. Gag. Slap. Pain. Thrust. Out.<p>

He was filthy, unclean. _The broken rag doll._ Someone pulled his hair roughly, dragging his head to meet someone's lips with a sloppy kiss. The tongue invaded his mouth, ravenous for his. Long ago, he had fought well, turning his head away, his feet coming up to kick someone hard in the face. But after the torture his rebellious actions had ceased. He did not want the torture. He could not have survived the torture.

He responded, his reactions automatic, similar to a robot's. The other person moaned in the kiss, pulling his hair so hard that it was painful. Suddenly the customer grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him away, his back slamming into the wall. His breath left his lungs in a rush and his head spun.

"Turn around, bitch."

He obeyed obediently, turning around to face the wall. It was better like this; he could imagine to a certain extent that he was not here, that this was all a bad dream. He bent down in a kneeling position with his head pressed against the floor, past experiences allowing him to arrange himself into the appropriate position, and waited.

This was the worst part. No matter how he tried to ignore the hurt, it would never fail to make its grand appearance at the times where he was most vulnerable. He could feel the customer's hard length desperately trying to position itself properly. He clenched his eyes shut.

No, this was not happening.

He was not spreading his legs for a stranger.

He was in his room, with Watari, reviewing the tapes captured for the Kira case. Nestled snuggly in his usual crouch, he was savouring the most delicious cakes as he fought to uphold the Justice he sought for.

Was he?

Did he even deserve such thoughts?

"_The Whore spreads his legs for anyone._

_You must have such a loose hole by now, slut. _

_Disgusting freak. You're even lower than us prostitutes. We earn money. You? Hah, you're _free."

The customer thrust in, moaning loudly as he did so. L let out a loud pain-filled groan as he panted. Out. In. Out…

L clenched his eyes as tightly as he could. The customer was using a different condom. It was specially designed to hurt, with merciless spikes adorning its form. L was now experiencing that pain, first-hand. He could hear squelching sounds as the customer pounded into him. So that was how his customer had planned to solve the lubricant problem; make him bleed, badly. Natural lubricant from his body; blood. He gritted his teeth and took the burning hot pain, but could not help the whimpers that escaped his lips.

The first few times it had happened, he fought really hard. However, the shackles that bounded him prevented him from managing much moves, let alone injuring the customer. It had hurt a lot, and in the midst of the customer's pleasure he slipped into blissful unconsciousness. When he woke up, however, the throbbing pain would not go away. He ended up sleeping curled up on his side, retreating into himself and willing the pain to disappear.

They had not allowed him to rest. The very next day he was forced again. The long hallways loomed before him, the familiar shadows mocking his pathetic existence. He felt the deep fear within him rising up, his large eyes for once unable to withhold his emotion. Fear was present in his eyes, and he loathed himself for showing such vulnerability. He knew that the pain would be much worse this time; he had yet to recover from the previous times.

Thrust. Scream. Out. Pant. Thrust. Struggle. Out. Thrust.

He could feel the reluctant tears welling up as he was ripped apart. They fell freely with every movement the customer made, pure agony invading his very soul as he was continuously penetrated. He being the coward he felt he was, had wished for death that very day. He desperately grasped for the straws of faded unconsciousness, but his body willed itself to stay awake. Surely death was a more pleasant feeling than this…?

His voice was hoarse the next day. He had screamed his voice hoarse, tears running down his face as he did so. He was a filthy coward. Where had L gone? The detective that would have surely fought to the very end, upholding the thing he held dear: Justice. L had deserted him, for he was too disgusting, too dirty, too much of a coward.

_Then who was he?_

He was nobody. He didn't deserve a name.

A bitter laugh rose within him, escaping to the surface in a series of bubbly mad laughter. He laughed a little louder, hugging himself tighter. As he moved, the cold concrete floor scraped against his skin, but he could even barely feel that kind of mild pain. He was mad. L Lawliet was mad…? Hilarious. He suddenly looked to the dusty floor, noticing the small splashes of water that had formed. Tears were dripping down… his face? Oh, L Lawliet was capable of emotional tears?

He had cried because of pain, but now that he was going crazy, he had to cry too?

Maybe it just indicated that he could hold on no longer.

Maybe he didn't want to anymore.

* * *

><p>"Watari's dead." The solemn words left the old man's mouth and hung in the room, the two young boys in the room quieter than ever before. The geniuses stared at him; one with an unblinking stare, the other with a grave expression. Seconds ticked by while they absorbed the news. Then, the younger white-haired boy returned to his puzzle pieces that lay scattered on wide expanse of the floor.<p>

Click.

The boy's slender fingers worked quickly but silently.

Click.

Another puzzle piece fitted into its exact spot.

Click.

"What of L?" The older boy; with blond hair streaming down the sides of his face, suddenly spoke, the rough tone of his voice not revealing the hope hidden deep within those three words.

The white-haired boy beside him looked up from his puzzle and turned to face him, wide eyes capturing his every move. Before the old man behind the desk could answer, the white-haired boy spoke, his soft voice monotonous.

"Why do you question the obvious, Mello? Had L been found, Roger would have informed us immediately. There is no need for him to withhold any information from us."

Mello gritted his teeth and willed himself to keep the frustration in. Near… he just had to say it, even though L was… The words that left his mouth next were a soft whisper, but it held a slight frenzy edge to it nonetheless. While he did know the answer, he still could not help but hope for the exact opposite of what he had expected.

"What of L?" Mello's voice sounded hollow this time, the soft whisper echoing in Roger's ears repeatedly. The boy knew. And yet he did not wish to.

"He is still missing." Roger replied, a heart-wrenching feeling entering his gut as he registered Mello's hurt-filled eyes. It came and gone in a mere second, but the pure, intense hurt that was present in those eyes… Roger tore his gaze from the boy, looking to his desk as he nervously crossed his fingers.

Near voiced out from where he was seated, hands never stopping as he spoke.

"The percentage of his death is rapidly increasing. The percentage-"

"Fact is, there is no body. With our capabilities and connections, we should have found been able to find the body without much hindrance. It still means something."

The light flicker of hope in those eyes did not go noticed. Near went quiet, for moment considering if Mello was intentionally blocking out the possibility of L's death. How unrealistic. Mello was indeed intelligent, but was too driven by his emotions that he had lost his chance to succeed. Near had never saw him as a rival, because Mello never was one.

"It means nothing."

Sharp and straight to the point. With the last piece in hand, Near's slender fingers placed it in its rightful place. He looked at his finished puzzle piece; a blank wide piece of nothingness. Curious, Roger peered over from where he was seated, once again marveling at the boy's mere intelligence. Blank and white, a supposedly unsolvable puzzle of sixty thousand pieces… solved; each piece perfectly fitted together. Mello bit back his remark, and watched on quietly. He knew that Near had more to say.

Slowly, Near raised his index finger. Mello and Roger both watched, one entranced, the other skeptical, as Near gently placed his finger on his completed puzzle piece. He moved his finger down, tracing a certain shape. Roger was unable to follow the rapid movement of his finger, getting dizzy as he tried his best to. Near's finger suddenly stopped, cutting its contact from the puzzle and rising up into the air to reach his hair. His usual twirling movement resumed once again. Roger was puzzled, but Mello had recognized the shape immediately.

A Gothic L.

Near and his mind games, again.

"I will bring L back by myself. Alive." Mello broke the silence abruptly. Upon speaking he whipped out a bar of chocolate from his pocket and began consuming it as he walked out of the doors.

Roger looked on, absolutely lost. It was perhaps that he had stared longingly at Mello's retreating back for quite some time, that he had missed out on the slight smirk present on both of the geniuses' faces.

The continuous cycle of unending challenges had begun once more.

May the best man win.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** L may seem a little OCC, and it is largely due to the traumatic experiences he has been through. I know it is confusing now, but soon the characters will be... more connected to one another. Take note that this is a series, and I foresee that it will be my first long series, thus I do not know how many chapters I intend to make it. The plot will deepen soon. While I do have the plot of the story planned out, the ending of the series remains as an undecided factor for me. I have the intention of altering it based on the course of the subsequent story flow. It really depends.

I do love to type, but I have to admit that I am an author who is slow regarding updates. I am much quicker during the holidays, though. To end it off, I believe all authors love reviews, but I am one who doesn't force reviews. If you do review, however, I would appreciate it very much indeed! :)


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Just in case you have not realised yet: yes, there are BL pairings present in the story. _

* * *

><p>For the first time, a small smile graced his lips. So faint it was that it almost went by unnoticed. The man was slightly taken aback. How a mere simple action could have brought about such a rare reaction, he would never know. It was baffling, but nonetheless he could feel a deep uncontainable warmth spread within him. He was happy for the boy and could not help but feel proud that he had managed to chance upon the sincere albeit faint expression.<p>

"Thank you, Watari."

The whisper was soft, but suffused with happiness. A soft blush adorned his pale cheeks, the hue setting his face aglow. His thick, black lashes fluttered as he blinked, perfectly framing the eyes that sparkled with bursting joy. He reached out his hand to briefly touch the elder man's hand. Upon contact, he grasped it; the small hand drowning in the depths of the huge, warm one.

Watari smiled down at him; the kind expression on his face once again reaching straight into his heart.

Suddenly, the edges around this beautiful dream blurred, the images fading away into nothingness. The shattering of glass pierced his ears. He clamped them shut, cutting himself away. The dark void ripped away at him, tearing him into pieces, his core threatening to collapse into himself. The dream vanished. His fists slammed onto the floor, a blood-curling cry echoing back at him. The steady stream of bloody tears poured down his cheeks, desolation clawing at him, scarring his very soul. In the sudden pool of water that had appear right in front of him there was a creature of beautiful bright red. The eyes that stared back at him were dead, cold, the smile in the reflection filled with undeniable madness of a monster. The bloodstained hands that reached out to grab the sides of his face was warm and slick, but he welcomed it, closing his eyes as the darkness shrouded him in eternal darkness.

For the first time, he breathed.

* * *

><p>Zzzzzzssssssstttt…..<p>

The static of the television annoyed Light Yagami terribly, adding on to the stress that was about to consume the whole of him. His nerves were frayed, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and his usual flawless brown hair disheveled to its tips. He stared at his computer, chin propped up by both hands.

Zzzzzzssssssstttt….

He sighed, standing up and making his way to the front of the television. He stared at it for a while more. The figures on the screen were just carrying out their normal daily activities; the reporter incessantly chattering into the microphone about how disastrous something was and how- _blahblahblah…_ was doing _blahblahblah…_

It was not like he actually cared. It was not like he expected any kind of result. The only reason why he was getting increasingly anxious was because his time was running out. Sleep was no longer a luxury he could spare. He had to find L, and fast. In a desperate attempt to do just that, he had broadcast a drawing of L, stating that he was a dangerous figure that went by the name of Ryuzaki Hideki, and was to be reported if found. Matsuda and the rest had questioned him and he was not lying when he replied that he was getting utterly desperate to find the raven-haired boy. From the start, he did not expect it to work, and alas, it had turned out as he had expected.

Damn. Was there no other means to find him? Light was _dying_ and the worst part was that he himself did not even know how much time there was left.

After Ryuk had told him the terrible news, he had promptly called in a private doctor to check on his health. The results, unsurprisingly, showed that he was in the pink of health. As the numbers above his head continued ticking down to his demise, the doctor actually had the audacity to declare him healthy! However, he knew. His enemy was no moron. Obviously, for him to have not realized, it would be impossible for a mere doctor to diagnose the poison that had entered his system. Wait; was it even a physical poison? If it was not, it would be impossible to detect, let alone cure. No matter what he did though, he kept thinking back to his enemy; L. Kira had many haters, that much was obvious. However, _Light Yagami_ was (quite) clear of any hatred whatsoever. Who would attempt to murder him, or actually succeed?

Another theory that he had formed in his brilliant mind gnawed at him ceaselessly. What if he was actually perfectly fine now, but someone had developed the intent of killing him and actually would succeed in the near future? Thus, that would mean that the time his lifespan had changed was at the exact same moment someone had set their mind upon his demise. That made sense, but Light, till date, had failed to identify the culprit. It was terrifying, and he lived in fear daily, distrust of his loved ones slowly seeping into him. Everyone was the possible murderer now, even Ryuk. Who was to say he would not just murder him in the middle of the night just for the fun of it? Although, truth be told, chances of that happening was low to none.

Light ruffled his hair in frustration, a growl rising up from this throat. What was happening?

Zzzzzzssssssstttt….

"Shut up!" He screamed hoarsely at the television, switching it off in a swift turning motion of fingers. He breathed deeply for a while, before slinking back into his chair. He glanced to the table, where the Death Note laid wide open, its white crisp pages filled with the darkest of ink; the judgement of a God written onto its very soul. Slowly, he picked up the pen by his side. The pen was long and dark. _Like L's eyes,_ he thought to himself. The detective's eyes; fiery black, intelligence peering out within its depths; unrelenting and determined.

The light from his table reflected onto the pen, casting a pitch-black shadow on the table. In its mighty glory the pen glistened in his trembling fingers as his heart palpitated wildly. A frenzy look entered his face as he started to rapidly write names into the rows of endless ink. A bright fire entered his eyes and a wide grin formed on his face. This was his sole purpose of his existence and he would never fail to uphold the expectations cast upon him. It was his duty to protect the good people in the world from the undeserving ones. It was an impure responsibility. Only the bravest of the most righteous would fight evil with evil, like he was doing now.

He was willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of bringing about the New World, where only pure people would live, and they would lead blissful lives indeed.

He was the Chosen One. The One who would take up this terrible duty.

Light Yagami; Kira, The God of the New World.

* * *

><p>"Ugh!" the harsh cry left his quivering lips. He could feel it deep within him, feel the wounds, both external and internal, being reopened again and again. The blinding pain gnawed at him, ripping and tearing; the parasite embedded deep inside him staining <em>red, red, red<em>. He clenched his teeth hard, trying enduring the sharp piercing pain, and the gritting noise produced was so deafening it enveloped his brain. The disgraceful tears streamed down his cheeks, but he refused, absolutely _refused_ to scream for the man above him. He struggled _hard_, twisting his wrists against the taut rope that bound him, rough friction producing blood, but to no avail.

_Thrust. PainPainPainPain- Whip._

He involuntarily let out an agonized scream, the cry echoing throughout the room. He knew he had lost. As the whip descended upon him again, he knew soon his resolute determination would crumble to irreparable pieces. "Stop… please stop…" the begged whispers escaped. Disgusting, pathetic... Never managing to hold on to the sanity and pride he had once possessed. He was a dignified being no longer. The endless, revolting tears had marked him shameless, inferior, nothing but a creature that brought about sexual pleasure. _Stop… Stop…!_ He closed his eyes from the world, attempting to cut off his consciousness from wherever he was. He had to pick up the pieces of himself; at least attempt to put them back together.

_Whip._

He had no strength left to protest nor begged, or even react. He crumpled onto the cold, marble floor, taking the hits as he feebly tried to break free from his restraints. No… No…

"Stop acting like you hate it, bitch. I know you, I can _see_ how _excited_ you are, masochistic slut!" He pulled L's hair, forcing him up to the right position; with L on his knees and hands. The rough floor scraped ruthlessly at his palms, but he could even barely feel it. His breath, strenuous as it sounded, was breathless but even.

_Thrust._

L began shook his head from side to side. It was not him! It was the drugs! It was the drugs… the drugs… Was it? Did he not enjoy this? He was dirty, had dropped so low that he could even enjoy such a thing? He was a willing party, right? If not, why would he-

L, the slut, enjoying the sexual pleasure from his tormentors…?

_Thrust._

Was he not past that point of sanity already? He was already broken, demented, delusional…

_Like Kira?_

"Why are you not responding, slut!" The customer pulled out, pulling on L's hair again and bringing him up from the ground. Using his free hand, the customer slapped L on the cheek, and backslapped him again. "DISGUSTING BITCH!" he screeched in his face, blows coming at L again and again. The impact was causing him to lose consciousness now, and L was grateful for the blissful blackness that was to soon arrive. Yes, he wanted it, begged for it so badly and longed for it dearly, where the pain and suffering ceased to exist.

* * *

><p>Cold water splashed on him, wrenching him back from the calm blackness. His wounds burnt from the water's contact, and he held back his scream, but instead shuddered violently from the pain. Screaming would only lead to more hurting. He opened his eyes quick, assessing the situation. The same customer was still there and he was enraged. No, the customer did not like their toys blacking out. It only meant money being wasted.<p>

"You like it, don't you? You enjoy just sucking anyone's, right? Whore?" L breathed hard, judging the unstable customer. If he said yes, the customer would react badly, perhaps whipping him for "being such a slut". If he said no, it would mean disagreeing with him and it would anger him more, resulting in the same thing. L kept silent and shivered, not only because of the cold water.

"Ignoring me? Fine, let's see how you ignore me when I shove this down your throat." L did not have to see the smirk of the customer's face. He could _hear_ it. The customer turned around, leaving L to face his back. The raw clinking of metal resounded in the room. Dread filled him as he realized what the customer intended to do.

When he turned around, L confirmed his suspicions with growing horror. A pipe.

It could not be…

He tried to break away, this time fighting with whatever strength he had left. He did not even feel the open wounds on his wrists bleeding badly as the friction of his skin against the rope increased. He was desperate and only had one thought in mind: Escape.

The customer was smirking as he strode towards him. His soft chuckling rose in volume, accentuating the cruel, twisted grin plastered on the man's face.

_No…!_

With the restraints in place (the thick ropes in which he was unable to break free from), he held L down easily and wrenched open his mouth. As the pipe slowly approached his mouth, L let out a deafening scream-

* * *

><p>"AHHHHHHHHH!" L awoke with a start, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his mouth. His tormentors would be angered by the noise. He wrapped himself into a tight ball and held his breath; his eyes kept shut, waiting for the blow that never did come. What? Why? His eyes scanned the room wildly, panicking as he failed to recognize his surroundings. There was nothing. Everything was-<p>

_White blankets, white bed, white walls, white everything._

_Whitewhitewhitewhite-_

"Ryuuzaki."

L slowly turned his head to look at the source of the voice.

No!

No…

Light Yagami...

_Kira…?_

* * *

><p>Light stood at the side of the door, observing L's movements. For the first time, Light could see L's expressions fully expressed on his face. That was not the most surprising thing about seeing L again. No… not at all. L's condition was terrible and Light could swear to God (well, himself) that it was a complete understatement. Now that L had received medical attention, he did not look as bad as before, but there was just something terribly off about the way he had screamed himself hoarse in his sleep. Only at times would Light hear whispers of "please stop", or "no". Other than that, L spoke no more coherent words. He would either scream or thrash on the bed. The most frightening part was that L had been asleep the whole time, including the times when he was screaming to no forever. (And he thought <em>he<em> was the weird one.)

Light was not one who sympathized with his enemies. However, hitting someone down when they were not at their optimum just made him feel like a fake winner all over again. He leaned his head backwards on the doorframe with a dull _thud_ sound, sighing as he did. Well… he would have to think about how he would deal with this… A sudden, startled cry travelled from L's hospital room to where Light was standing. As soon as Light was about to reach the room, L stopped in mid-scream. Light looked over to the bed, watching as L curled himself tightly into a ball, covering his head as he did so. His eyes were shut tightly. Was it Light's imagination, or was L actually quivering? Light stood still, watching the unfolding of the event. L was most certainly awake. However, responding with any form of action would only evoke an unfavorable ending, now would it not? He had to make sure L realized that Light was the one now _in control_.

Slowly, L realized it had taken too long for the blow he had expected. He carefully unlocked his human ball (how had he even accomplished such an impossible body position?) and his eyes, still wild with panic, began to study his surroundings. Light shifted, uncomfortable. L had been weird before all of this but… this was just… plain freaky. Light suspected it was due to the fact that he had been so relaxed these past few months that such wild actions just seemed a little crazy to him.

L was still looking rather disorientated.

"Ryuuzaki."

L whipped his head to where he was standing. Black, wide eyes stared into hazel-brown ones with an absolute terrified expression. It only lasted for a brief second before L looked down at the bed he was sitting down. Light frowned. Fear? Had he seen fear? Did L even possess _fear_? It was impossible.

"Ryuuzaki?"

L blinked rapidly, as if he was suddenly hearing his call for the first time.

Weird.

L looked up. "Are you talking to me?"

His voice was cracked, hoarse, but Light could still hear the words. L's eyes were void of fear now, and the way that they suddenly stared so openly at Light... There was an air of innocence (How…?) about him, the way he looked around; slightly bewildered by his surroundings but not at all jittery like before.

Was he trying to portray a façade of calm?

Light was appalled by L's skill. The boy could really act. Usually, L just showed no expression, covering up his true emotions instead of acting. It was weird that L would do that. He had not doubted L's acting abilities, but it was not his style at all. Well, but _he_ was the one with the _perfect_ acting skills. He could do it better.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki. I am talking to you." It was his fluent, soothing voice. There, he smirked to himself; he had carried it out flawlessly once again.

"Ryuuzaki…? I… My name… is not Ryuuzaki," L looked around, confused, "where am I?"

"L, you are in a hospital." Light rolled his eyes internally. _Of course your name isn't Ryuuzaki. _Upon hearing his response, L looked confused as ever.

"Wha-?"

Just then, a doctor walked into the room. Both patient and visitor watched as he walked in, black office shoes clacking loudly on the floor. He paused at L's bedside, scrutinizing the patient. Then, he tapped at his paper-filled board with his pen, looking at L as he did so. "How are you feeling?" he asked, a slight frown coming onto his face. L was even more baffled now.

Just what in the world was going on?

"Doctor… I'm feeling fine. Why are you asking?" Gently, L put his feet on the floor in an attempt to stand. His face showed strain, but in the end he managed to rise shakily, keeping his balance. With his full body exposed from under the blanket, Light suddenly realized the full extent of the damage inflicted on L's body.

Light inhaled deeply.

_Because shit, this was screwed._

Bruises adorned his body everywhere. Big, small, faint, purple, green… There were so many kinds. Light was intelligent to guess how each bruise was inflicted. There were primarily kicks and there were others like punches (fresh fist marks), slaps (the kind that, Light was certain, drew blood) and wounds inflicted by rods (wooden, metal or what material, he was not sure). The bruises were horrible, but the wounds worse. His wrists… Some kind of wild, ferocious animal must have attacked his wrists silly, because the flesh there were torn open, literally torn _open_. Light wondered how it looked like days before. If this was the 'better condition', as the doctor had mentioned to him before, how did L even look like before treatment? The inner sides of his forearms were filled with cuts, which Light immediately recognized as suicide attempts. They were not shallow, the type that just drew some blood. They were deep, deep, deep and aimed directly at the arteries. How L survived all that, Light had not a clue.

The worst parts had yet been said. Light could not even believe his eyes. There were hickeys all over his body and Light could obviously tell that they surely were not '_marks of love_'. The whip marks on his back were also another indication. They were faint, but Light knew certain people who knew how to whip good and they definitely knew how to whip so as to avoid leaving obvious marks.

"You shouldn't talk. Your rib…" The doctor started, face scrunched up with worry. L sat back down on the bed and, as if he had only registered he was naked just then, asked, "Why am I not wearing anything?"

The doctor looked to his notes, disapproval written all over his face.

"You're not to talk…" The doctor flipped through his notes, "Ryuuga Hideki-san. Your vocal cords are strained and if you continue, permanent damage may even occur. Excessive talking, throat clearing, coughing, inhaling irritants, smoking, screaming or yelling individually or collectively, can cause your vocal cords to be further irritated and inflamed."

"What?"

"Too much screaming can change the quality of your voice, your ability to use it how you want to, and even put you at risk for losing your voice's natural sound," he continued. Light could vaguely sense the doctor getting a little more annoyed at how L kept talking despite what he had said.

"But I speak fine. And I feel… okay."

"Yes, Ryuuga Hideki-san. You feel fine, but you're _not_."

As if he to prove his point, the doctor's eyes scanned over L's body, indicating the damage. At this, Light glanced away. It was rude to stare, but that was not the main reason why he had not. He was not sympathizing with his enemy either. It was that he was not accustomed to such… brutality firsthand, and it was something he could not bear to look at. Such raw, painful injuries…

In response to the doctor's actions, L followed his eyes and looked down at his own body. He trailed his fingers over the wounds on his wrists, wincing as he did. Internally, Light also winced as L's expression turned into a grimace.

"It hurts… W-What happened?"

The doctor slowly approached where L was sitting, and sat on the hospital bed with him. Carefully, he brought his palm to touch L's forehead, and stroked L's black hair backwards; a soothing motion, like one would pet a puppy. Light had expected L to at least flinch due to the previous abuse he had suffered, but L just sat, wide eyes bewildered.

"It's okay. Don't think about anything. Relax and rest. I'll explain when you're better."

L frowned, but nodded in compliance. He lay back down on the bed and went back to sleep in seconds. Light felt very much uncomfortable. L sleeping was a rare sight to behold. Didn't the boy have insomnia? Maybe he was just too exhausted… The doctor gestured to Light to walk outside with him, and Light followed quietly. The doctor closed the door.

"Are you a relative of the patient?" The doctor spoke first.

"Yes. I am his distant cousin, his only relative." Instantaneous lie.

"Yes, alright, after assessment of his condition, we suspect Ryuuga's condition to be… a form of repressed memory loss due to the psychological trauma he has experienced. In a sense, the brain-"

"I have a high level of expertise in this area. Please continue without the details, doctor." The doctor eyed Light, a slightly unhappy look on his face, but he continued nonetheless. "The type of psychological trauma he has been through… It is not my expertise, so I would suggest a psychiatrist to help his case. I do know, however, that you should not agitate the patient in any way possible. Please, he has been through much. Do not do anything to purposely trigger the repressed memories without any professional help. The patient might have violent impulses at any moment, and seems extremely unstable. I would advise him to stay at the hospital for a much longer period of time, but my assessment as a common doctor ends here. He is physically weak, but he is no longer in a dire condition. He can go home, should he wish to, but if I were you, I would advise him to remain here. I could refer you to a psychiatrist if you would like."

Light pondered over the doctor's words for a moment longer, before hesitantly asking, "Was he… I mean, did they… You know, the wounds… Does that mean-"

"Yes, Mr. Yagami. According to the assessment of his physical health, the presence of rectal tearing is undeniable. The slight tearing at the sides of his mouth also indicates abuse. The wounds on his body… you've seen for yourself. There is more than enough evidence to indicate-"

"Can the perpetrators be identified?"

"Unfortunately, no. All evidence was eradicated before he was found."

"I see… You said that... he was found in a back way alley?"

"Yes, in fact, not too far away from here."

Light nodded his head, a decision made up in his mind. "Then, I will bring him home with me when he awakes." Light turned around and was about to walk away when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around, mild surprise coating his features.

"Wait, Mr. Yagami. I... I need to tell you something."

* * *

><p>"Mels, it's so rare to see it like this."<p>

Mello looked down at his lap, where Matt's head lay. Matt's goggles was hanging loosely around his neck, the orange accessory for once not taut around his head and covering those calm mesmerizing green eyes. He was wearing his usual striped shirt and jeans, his gaming device hidden deep in his pocket, out of sight. Mello gently stroked Matt's soft hair, a sense of serenity spreading throughout him. The gamer's beautiful green eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moonlight. His expression was one of wonder and love and adoration as he glanced up at Mello, his finger pointing up at the full moon filling up the expanse of the sky.

"You're so beautiful Matt. You know… let's just remain like this forever." Soft twinkling laughter bubbled up within the boy lying on his lap, the pleasant sound making their way up into his ears. Matt put his hand down, entwining his fingers with Mello's. Slowly, his laughter ceased. A sad smile gradually entered his gentle features as he looked up at Mello.

"Not everything lasts forever, Mels. Even love."

The glistening in Matt's eyes were tears building up and Mello knew it deep in his heart he was the cause of it. Matt tried to smile, but his sad eyes betrayed his expression, revealing the true dwelling feelings inside. Subconsciously, he clenched their entwined hands tighter, holding it much closer to his chest. It was as if he was afraid that Mello might disappear at any time and that he earnestly needed the reassurance of his presence. At this sight, uncontrollable guilt seized Mello. He knew it to be his deserved punishment for putting Matt through such suffering, but his will was unwavering. It was not a choice; it was something necessary, something he would certainly not give up on. It was an integral part of Mello that _needed_ to complete this, to prove himself worthy.

"Our's will. I swear." Mello replied in an affectionate whisper, steel resolution, determination and promise in his voice. He squeezed Matt's hand and brought him closer to himself, comforting in the warmth that was Matt as he tried to reassure the boy of his undying love. Would he not understand just how much he loved him? How much he would continue to love him? It was irrefutable; Mello loved Matt. That was an unchangeable fact.

"In here, Mels," Matt's warm hand briefly touched Mello's chest where his heart lay beating beneath, "I can never be first. I've lost. I've lost to Near-"

"Matt! I would never- You know how much I hate that son of a-" Mello protested wildly, slight anger rising up.

"You don't understand, Mels. It's not that." Matt said harshly and looked into his eyes, desperately holding back the tears threatening to fall. Mello's heart broke, but he could not comprehend how Matt would even think that. Matt's frame was trembling now as hugged Mello's waist tightly, burrowing his head into his shirt.

"What is it then?" Mello exclaimed, exasperated, heartbroken and very confused.

"You're always thinking of Near, Mels, and how to win him. I've lost not only to Near, you know? The person I've always been defeated by... is L."

"What do you mean-"

"Shhh." Matt rised up from where he was hugging Mello and put his finger to the blonde's parted lips, halting his words. "Tonight, just tonight, let me remember you like this. Let me remember us like this, like we always have been; delusional about how we would always be together, trapped in a love so strong nothing could ever threaten to break us apart. Let me forget, Mels, how from tomorrow onwards I will never be able to feel your touch, to taste you, to feel your love, to see that rare smile, to bask in your presence." Tears were streaming down his face now, uncontrolled and filled with such building agony that Mello's heart ripped itself into pieces. "Let me forget, that I'm about to lose my everything. That I'm about to… lose you, Mels."

Matt's voice broke at the last word. He brought up his sleeve to his eyes, suddenly crying hard. He had promised not to cry, had he not? What had Mello expected of him? For Matt to let him leave with a big grin on his face? Mello was so stupid! Stupid! _Stupid! _Matt was human; he was not heartless, not made of concrete nor stone. How was he expected to take this? He sat there on the cold, wooden bench; tears rapidly staining his sleeves. He was crying, crying like he never had before, right in front of Mello, like the rightful weakling he was. Weak weak weak weak. That was all he was.

Mello's tears were rapidly building up as he looked upon the one he loved so dear. Matt hugged Mello's torso tightly once again, teeth clenched as he sobbed quietly into his shirt, trembling fingers maintaining its iron grip on the one he swore to never let go. "Don't leave me, Mels." The voice was desperate, unmistakably quivering. "Please Mello!" He choked in between sobs. Mello could not respond, and the tears he tried so hard to hold back fell. Matt repeated his words again, just willing so hard for all the bad things to go away. He would be nothing without his shining light, nothing without his love. A dark hole had already expanded within him; a hurt so painful that he would never be able to withstand.

Mello remained silent.

Frustrated and agonized, Matt suddenly pushed Mello back against the bench they were sitting on with great force, earning a 'umph' from Mello. Mello took the hit willingly, eyes looking to the floor, unable to face Matt's hurt-filled eyes.

Matt slowly stood to his feet, unstable. Fists were clenched by his sides and his teeth were gritted.

"AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU! I'M NEVER ENOUGH!" Matt lashed out at Mello as he cried. Mello stood up and hugged Matt tightly, holding his trembling form close to his body. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you Matt. I'll come back, I swear."

"I don't want your apologies, Mello." Matt suddenly whispered, the hurt too painfully obvious in his voice. "Can't you stay? For me, Mello? For me, and me alone? Forget L, forget Near. We can be together, you and I. We'll be together, forever, like you said!"

Mello looked down, unable to face Matt's desperate eyes. "Don't be like this, Matt. You know me. You know I don't give up."

"IT'S NOT RIGHTEOUS YOU IDIOT! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO SURVIVE AGAINST KIRA OUT THERE! L DIDN'T, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN?"

Mello's eyes turned to ice at this statement. "I can prove to you that I can take down Kira, where Near and L has failed." Matt let out a hard laugh at this. "You have to go. And yet you won't even let me come? Why are you doing this to me? Why can't we go together?"

"You yourself know why." Mello gritted his teeth. _It's too dangerous. You can't die Matt. I disallow it. You can't die for my selfish reasons. I will pay for what I want to get._ Sudden deafening bells rang. The deep, hollow sounds resonated throughout the garden, adding a chill to the night-time atmosphere. _Hollow_, Matt thought to himself,_ like the organ that would soon cease beating in my chest._

Mello closed his eyes. This was it. Twelve midnight had arrived. It was the last call indicating his departure.

"I'm going." Without a last look at Matt, Mello stalked off into the night, leaving him alone in the beautiful moonlit garden that wildly contrasted the turmoil he felt inside. A bitter laugh resounded in the garden; the pain cleverly hidden away into his heart. He would not survive without Mello. It was so painfully clear that he found it funny how Mello had not realized that before he had made his decision. He tightly grasped his chest where his dying, broken heart resided. The tears fell no longer. His heart was bleeding more than enough to make up for the unseen tears.

"Love you too, Mels."

The faint sounds of his footsteps were the last thing that Matt ever remembered of him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I finally updated. Yes, I finally did. I apologise for the late update, I have been editing and re-editing this chapter for a long time! Hopefully this rather long chapter makes up for it. Your reviews have greatly encouraged me in my writing! Thank you, readers! Please, critique/reviews would be greatly appreciated and loved! _


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm done," the raven-haired man stepped out of the bathroom, adorning his usual set of clothing. Light's eyes peered forward, catching a glance at his clothed, mutilated form. His hair was ruffled, a horrid mess of coal black. His face possessed purple faded bruises, marked especially along the sides of his face, along the highly arched cheekbones. The long baggy white shirt managed to cover most of his wounds, its long sleeves hanging loosely from his thin, abused frame. The hands, the unusually long slender fingers, peeked out from the ends of the sleeves. They too, were bruised badly, glimpses of malicious ripped bandaged cuts entering Light's sharp eyes. L had since lost a tremendous amount of weight, looking more like a brittle piece of clothes hanger than anything else. His loose jean hung off him, threatening to slip to the ground, but his wiry fingers stayed latched onto them, holding them in place at his waist.

"I see. Do you need a belt?" Light's voice flowed smoothly, almost soothingly but not quite. He remained seated on the hospital bed L had been lying on minutes ago, not really knowing where to put his hands. An awkward silence fell.

L peered at him from where he stood, his eyes large, black and encompassing. He stared openly for a few moments. Inside, Light squirmed uncomfortably, forcing himself to meet that sickeningly open and almost innocent gaze. But… it was innocent, wasn't it? After all, L was suffering from repressed memories. Would he, then, recognize Light at all? Or even recognize Light as Kira?

"Who are you?" The voice was unbelievably hoarse, as if it had been scrapped repeatedly with dozens of knifes. Light snapped out of thought immediately, head lifting, eyes meeting those endlessly empty black orbs. How careless of him to let his guard down! He paused. Wait, what had L asked again? Oh, his identity. Of course his name was- A sudden thought struck him. Slowly, but surely, a mad glint had worked into the soft brown hues of his eyes, flashing dangerously. What if… Just what if…?

"Me?" Light brought forth an air of innocence. L did not once narrow his eyes into suspicion nor did he retort the obvious question. Interesting, Light noted mentally. Instead, L remained open, eyes wide, almost eagerly awaiting an answer. L nodded, a rough tug of his head downward, indicating that yes, he did mean Light. Who else could he have meant? Slowly, Light stood up from where he was sitting on the white, crisp blankets of the hospital bed, shoes clacking on the hard floor as he walked towards L on the other side of the room. L's wondering obsidian eyes never left Light's as he allowed Light's approach.

Light stopped right in front of L, face leaning closer to the other, smiling a sickeningly sweet smile that seemed to have no effect on the raven-haired man. He then leaned to L's right, closing the distance between his lips and L's neck. He could feel his breath like a swirling mist, reaching the curve of the other's ear and now slightly shivering neck, the hotness of his exhalation almost caressing it mockingly. L stiffened imperceptibly.

A sudden surge of raw power gushed into Light, alighting the dominance in his ruby-tainted eyes. Yes… Yes, L, _fear_ me. _Bow _down under the might of Kira, _kneel_ at the feet of Kira, _tremble_ at the sight of the God of the New World! He let out a long shaky, exhilarated breath; heart suddenly thudding wildly at the shudder he received from L. Fear. L was consumed by the very fear he _fed _upon. He slammed two hands against the sides of L's head, trapping him against the smooth blankness of the hospital wall. Slowly, he pressed his lips to L's trembling ear, whispering with a hard edge.

"Who am I, L?"

L's fingers clenched tightly at his loose jeans, knuckles pale white and trembling from the strain. Who was he? WHO WAS HE? He could not move. Veiled demons tugged at him, pulling, grasping, ripping- The bangs of his heart beat cold, freezing blood into his taut veins. Everything was screaming, shrill and piercing into his head, humming an uneven deafening lullaby. _Run_, their coarse voices slammed into him, breaking his concentration. But he could not move an inch. Chalk-white hands uncovered themselves from shades of darkness in the shape of the man in front of him, rushing to grip the blood red organ in his hollow chest. KIRA, they slithered, screaming. KIRA. KIRA. KIRA. KI-

"Kira."

Light's eyes widened. He let go of L, hands no longer trapping the broken man leaning against the wall in front of him. He stumbled backwards, breath catching in his throat as his lips parted in surprise. The fluorescent lighting attached to the ceiling above their heads cast long shadows into the ground, capturing the moment of pure silence as Light stared at the other with abated breath. L's weak body slipped to the ground, sliding against the wall as he crumpled on the floor from the pressure. He crushed his head with his two hands, holding his mess of jet-black strands with a ferocity Light had yet to see before in the detective. L's eyes were clenched tight as he sat, trembling legs splayed out. Light had never seen L sitting like this before.

Long, agitated fingers ran through his hair, pulling at the delicate strands. He was clearly trapped in mental turmoil, his eyes closed tight in agonizing pain. His breath was ragged and weak, mouth slightly open in a moan. "S…stop. Stop, Kira…" he murmured incomprehensively, toes curling in on themselves and curling out again in unnatural, jerky motions. Tears were bordering in his tightly shut eyes.

"Stop. Let go… Let go…"

Light stared, eyes wide and bewilderment swirling in those light brown depths. He staggered backwards a little more before managing to compose himself. _Alright, L is currently unstable_, Light told himself, _I must calm him down. I will plan what to do with him when we arrive back at my house, where no one can interfere. _He glanced up at the quiet swerving camera above them, its bright red light blinking rhythmically. He would have to be careful not to arouse anymore suspicion.

Slowly, Light reached a hand towards L's mutated human ball form, gently tugging at his wrist as he made soothing noises. "Shhh… L, it's alright. Calm down. Calm down… L, listen to me. Think. You're in a hospital. You've been rescued," L flinched instinctually at the touch, tugging away wildly. Light immediately let go of his wrist and sighed deeply to himself. What a pain. "I'm sorry for agitating you in your delicate condition, but it wasn't intentional. I'm not going to hurt you. Please, calm down."

Seeing as his presence was too close for comfort, Light slowly made his way back to the hospital bed, sitting down impatiently. His rival was certainly wasting his precious time. Why should he show any more concern than what was required of him as "Yagami Light"? Kira did not even give a damn about the detective, except only to be rid of him. But the truth was, without L, the chances of him saving himself would be lessened. Surely L had something to do with his "poisoned lifespan". It was the biggest lead he possessed. He had to follow it through. L was always planned out. He could very well imagine L telling someone to arrange Light's disposal should anything happen to himself. Light knew, because he would have done the same.

L was calming down now, breaths evening out. His large eyes opened, staring unseeing into the distance. Light slowly approached.

"L?"

L's eyes refocused to peer directly into Light's.

"Yagami-kun."

* * *

><p>Click.<p>

The white-haired boy with the waxen features brought a finger up to his face, reaching a familiar curl near the side of his face. That index finger automatically latched onto it, twirling it relentlessly. The loose pajamas hung off his small child-like frame onto the floor, obtaining a grayish stain-like color to the no longer pristine white fabric. The large screens mounted along the walls shed dim light against his small figure and the gigantic towers of stacked die, casting light, long shadows on the ground.

Click.

The black-white-black-white of the die surrounding the stunted boy was immense, stretching across the wide distance of the room. His thin pale fingers were ghosts, almost a reflection of those that someone he was 'reconstructed' to possibly replace had. It did not matter much now, for he was-

Click.

Large, obsidian eyes stared into the extreme contrast of white and black. Sometimes, it seemed to be the only thing that he existed for, the only logical progression that allowed his continued being to function. The pureness of the black, dark swirl was massive in its undiluted perfection. The white, on the other hand, was glaringly bright, piercing in its flawlessness. Perhaps it was a tad ironic that he was constantly adorned in white. After all, to him, there was no colour to Justice, no corporeal, tangible connection. There existed only an elegant L.

The twirling intensified. Near's mental functions whirred rapidly, eyes blinking slowly. Everything was laid out in front of him. The finger puppets, grotesque in build and image. The finger puppet L was lying sideways on the ground, eyes bulging comically, his mess of black hair atop his head. A washed out light blue 'L' was on the front of his pale long sleeved shirt. Near's equally large eyes gazed into the puppet's one, before trailing on. The finger puppet Mello lay some distance away from L, its bleached-like blond hair an exact replica of the original. Near had made sure of this. Its bulging eyes stared straight into his own dull ones, alight with a blaze so blinding that Near was instantly entranced. It was an attraction akin of a moth to a flame. Near was the brains; he possesses all logical thoughts, was _made up_ of logic, but Mello was unquestionably the heart. Mello was the _fire_, passion lighting him aflame. He constantly spurred himself into action, and was in fact the core that made sure Near would act. This was why Near was positive that they would make a formidable team. But of course, it seemed fate had other plans. It was a pity, but it did not bother him much. He possessed a natural tendency to remain apathetic to most things after all.

He glanced back at the Mello finger puppet for a while longer before moving on, eyes trailing to a finger puppet that had been created after him. It was eerily similar to the real person; the wavy pale hair, the almost translucent child-like skin, the malformed bugling eyes unblinking in its blankness. Near blinked back at the finger puppet. At least he could blink.

Right next to his finger puppet, however, was a finger puppet he had decided to make with much reluctance. The finger puppet was equal in its deformities to the other, typical with its short body and bulging eyes, but it was worlds apart from the real person. The brown, ashen hair atop its head was indeed the same hue, but the orange-tinted goggles covering the bulging eyes helped create the image better. The finger puppet wore stripped clothing, merely a dim reflection of the true person. Matt.

_Mail Jeevas_, Near thought dully. It wasn't that Near disliked him. In all honesty, Near often remained indifferent to everything, except, maybe Mello. But Matt was crucial to all this, a whisper trailed up his gut told him, tugging at his instincts. Mail Jeevas was connected to all this because-

Mihael Keehl.

Near would be the brains. Mello would be the heart, and possibly the nerves, Near thought slowly to himself. Matt would be… Matt would be…

The blood.

Matt would be the one that powered the nerves, the fluid that would be pumped into the heart, and from the heart, be pumped into the brain. For the heart could not function without blood, nor could the brain. Mail Jeevas was the connection. Only then would Mihael Keehl be the beacon, and from there Nate Rivers would be the power source to stir to beacon to life through the connection. That was how Near would be able to reach his hands far through the distance to the being that was Kira.

The problem being…

Near twirled his thin hair vigorously. He picked himself up, the Near finger puppet remaining motionless. He peered once again into its bulging unseeing eyes before placing it beside the Matt finger puppet. He then picked up the Mello finger puppet and placed it nearer to the L finger puppet.

He is closing the distance, L.

Near blinked. The hand twirling around his strand of hair adorning the side of his face was brought down into his loose pajama pocket. He dug around slowly before latching onto another finger puppet. Clutching it tightly, he retrieved it, pulling it out and placing it directly beside the L finger puppet.

It was a finger puppet with a yellow cap and a yellow shirt. The yellow was dirt-coloured compared to the rich blond gold of Mello's hair. This last finger puppet adorned a gray mask, obscuring its beady eyes. Compared to this doll, the rest of the puppets' bulging eyes seemed mild. Its eyes were constructed to mask a hidden snicker, a hidden mockery. Its wide smile was sinister, almost impudent, as its arms lay limply by its sides. Four blood red letters were etched onto the yellow shirt, loud and clear from where he was seated:

'KIRA'.

Near stayed silent for a few minutes. He looked to the Matt finger puppet, standing rigidly beside the Near puppet. He then looked to the Mello puppet, who was nearing the L and Kira puppets. Near blinked again. He stood up slowly, numbly making his way to the front of the computers. His delicate finger pressed on a dark gray button-

"Yes, Near? May I be of assistance?" The raspy, old yet kind-tinted voice of Roger immediately sounded from the speakers located in the dimly lit room.

"Yes. Would you get Matt on the line?"

* * *

><p>Beep. Beep.<p>

The car's twin headlights lit up simultaneously, blinking mechanically through the misty distance. Light walked in front, with L trailing behind. The abused young man's footsteps were soft, but Light could hear the veiled uneven rhythm of his footfalls, despite how desperately L had tried to soften them upon the cold, unforgiving ground. It was as clear as day to Light, the limp, the _agony_ L had to be going through to 'conceal' his suffering. The faint shuffling of his feet dragged out in the vastness of the parking lot, echoing indistinctly along the walls. Light was sure to maintain his constant pace, his brown leather shoes clacking at a normal volume against the grey floor, as he sought to keep up his oblivious pretense to L's obvious pain.

_It must be the stitches, _Light thought to himself, _perhaps also the bruises, cuts, lashes, scars… _He stopped his thought process immediately, disliking the path it was leading to. L certainly did not need, nor especially want, his pity. It just made him more pathetic than he already was. Kira scoffed inside him. He had better extract the needed information from L and then make sure he be rid of this dangerous excess baggage. Of course, Light thought as he peered at the dull-eyed man almost catching up to walk alongside him, he would dispose of him diligently and carefully, unlike how he dealt with that old fool Watari.

Upon reaching the ordinary, common car he possessed for 'investigation purposes', Light gently tugged at the handle of the sleek door. The suddenness of the sound caused L to jump, his jittery motions reaching the brim and overflowing. Light pretended not to notice. He could hardly care less; except that he had to make sure L did not manage to contact anyone through any kind of device whatsoever. He would not allow his plans to go awry.

Light settled into the seat, easing into a pretense of normalcy he was accustomed to. But his brown-hued eyes never once left L's quiet figure. L's frail fingers reached forward to touch the door handle, hesitant. Buzzing irritation was beginning to electrify Light's nerves. _How much time do you think I have to spare you! _He thought maliciously. Kira raged, lunging forward to the left side of the car to tug at the door handle from the inside. L flinched.

Trying to cover his nervousness, L quickly tumbled into the seat, closing the door behind him with as much strength as he could muster. The exertion caused by the motion was genuine but once again desperately concealed as L's ragged breathing was promptly controlled. A small, wondering part of Light Yagami wondered how long it had been since L had seen a car, let alone ride in it.

The last time L had been in a vehicle was probably when he was kidnapped. The disturbing thought tugged uncomfortably at Light, but he clamped the discomfort down. _He _wasn't the victim here. L would have to deal with his own problems as Kira dealt with his own. With that last thought, Light started the twisted the key, starting the ignition. The engine whirred to life, shaking the car into a low rumble. L turned his head to the left and clenched his eyes tightly shut.

Throughout the journey, the young man continued clutching tightly at the rough fabric of his jeans, fingers constantly fidgeting as though to forcefully halt the slight tremble rippling through the thin frame. The bony white fingers were stick thin, seeming to possess a fathomless desperation in keeping his jeans at waist level. Light immediately assumed the cause of the motion to trauma. L's eyes were cast downwards, flickering back and forth, as if distraught with a sudden open vulnerability of his situation. Also, he was sitting with his legs stretched out to the floor, like a normal person would. Why…? The dark, swirling depths were kept hidden, L's gaze trapped by nothingness at his twitching toes. This frustrated Light. What had happened, back at the hospital? Had he triggered the repressed memories? This L… Was he the infuriating raven-haired detective he knew? If so, he had better be quick to execute his plan-

"Yagami-kun," the voice was equally raspy and coerced, but there was steel beneath every syllable, as if placed in an attempt to enforce the words. It was still L's voice, but somehow it seemed distant… and so very uncertain. The breathlessness… the _weakness_… A spike of glee shot through Kira's chest. Light skillfully kept his delight from his features, turning his face ever so slightly to the left, where L was sitting. He carefully shot a mild questioning gaze to the other.

L had been eleven months out of practice, after all.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki? I do sincerely apologize for earlier, I was merely-" Teasing? Testing? Validating? Before Light could flaunt the prowess in the art of manipulation and deceit, L cut him off.

"Where is Watari?"

Light's heart thudded wildly in his chest. No… L was catching on too quick. Panic froze his veins, seizing his rapid heartbeat. Light glanced to the digital clock on his dashboard: "21:43". The plan was flowing smoothly, the torrent of dirt, black water gushing through the stony path, smelling the glare of its destination, before colliding, smashing directly into the obstacle in its once-clear path. He was so close! Light cursed mentally, but recovered swiftly. Even so, like the fluid, Light was adaptable. He knew he could turn this around. L was weak now, struck down. Even if the lightning quick detective beside him knew, he could never escape. Not unless Light allowed it.

Distraction, Light. Distract him until the time comes, whispery tendrils slipped into his ears, alighting the cruel glint within the light brown depths of his eyes. Yes, he would do just that and _succeed_. Light glanced at the clock. Seven more minutes, and the wide expanse of the azure blue sky would drip crimson beauty. Seven minutes.

"He is back at the headquarters, Ryuuzaki. He meant to stay there to disallow me the chance to hack into your computer systems and retrieve information. I would say he thought wrong, but, I wouldn't know when it came to you now would I?" Light had not missed a single beat. His thought process flew miles in his brain, interpreting and whisking data and information away in his mental compartmental storage. Light blinked again, a natural-looking sardonic smile forming on his lips. There, he did not even have to fake that one. Now, he would simply be required to plan the backup steps. L would probably request Light to 'Connect me to him', or something of along that line.

"I wish to speak to him," L's hardened voice trailed into Light's left ear. Light's suppressed a triumphant smirk. He knew L knew that the information he had told him was a lie. Watari would never permit Light's freedom _anywhere_, if it were within the old man's capabilities, L was certain. How much doubt the detective had regarding that piece of information, he wasn't quite sure. However, the truth was that L could not confirm the circumstances in which he had left Watari in. He simply could not know for sure. Light knew the detective would not jump to assumptions too easily, and Kira would undoubtedly use this vigilant nature to his advantage. It would not matter where doubts were cast soon enough, when Kira could store L away nicely.

"I don't have his number. I can call the Headquarters if you wish to," Light continued fluently, never lost in his thought processes. Ah, how he missed this. The constant suspicion and mind games would surely aid in the brushing up of his rusty intellectual capabilities. Light glanced at the clock: "21:46".

Four more minutes.

L stared numbly at the dashboard. They both knew calling the Headquarters would only result in a busy tone, as planned by Light. The swirling depths of deep entrancing black looked on blankly onto the road, taking in the sights of impatient drivers speedily dashing forward, entrapped in a cramped metal casing of supposed luxury. Funny, how they purposefully trap themselves in such a space, constantly awaiting the blaring red circle atop black poles to change to green ones. How ironic, that he would willingly be trapped in another can of metal, with Kira.

Light ignored L's silence, peripheral vision never leaving the clock on the dashboard: "21:47". Three more minutes. The hand gripping the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly, slightly fidgety with newfound excitement. He would win! His eyes glistened with the sweet freshness of victory. He would win this huge step!

"Tell me, Light-kun," L's hoarse disused voice trailed from his left again, disrupting his inner roaring thoughts. Light had not even registered how L was suddenly using his first name, as if exhausted of the battle between them. Instead, Light's mind trailed back to before when the screams were-

_Anguish. His throat an enlarged, grotesque funnel, where sharp, scalding crystals would gush out in torrents onto the blank floor. The scream, anguish-filled, desperate and blind with pain, penetrating its razors into his skull, through the whiteness of his bone, into the softness of his brain. L's clenched eyes, coal black lashes piercing against the stark paleness of his chalk-white skin, sometimes wide open, unseeing with streaks of darkness streaming down the arch of his cheekbones. The hands, gripping sheets, digging into the fabric, scratching, tearing, ripping. Thrashing, body flailing about insanely, friction, friction- The screeching of teeth smashed against teeth, the raw, painful screa-_

"Is Watari dead?"

Hollow. Empty. Nothing.

Light blinked his eyes slowly, rapidly. Kira had no sympathy, especially for this man. But really, did it matter now? Even if he, the broken piece of human beside him, knew, what could he do? He had been proclaimed dead by the world. He had no true identity to cling on to. He was known to the world as a mere gothic letter. The man beside him was not the L he knew anymore. What could a flimsy piece of puppet cloth do to him now? He had solidly taken over 'L', and the raven-haired man beside him would soon fall into his clutches.

Light turned to look at L on his left, his eyes meeting black, hollow ones. L was too far-gone. Light looked back to the clock again: "21:49".

"Yes. He is dead."

"21:50".

* * *

><p>The doctor heaved a great sigh as he lifted his burdened weight off the chair. The patient's relative had decided to admit him from the hospital after all. It was quite a relief; the patient had been quite a handful.<p>

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he stiffly made his way to the door, feet shuffling against the hard ground. He could not shake off the feeling of weariness as he recalled the chestnut-haired male. There seemed to be something off about him, something unnatural snaking through the calmness in his eyes, but perhaps he was reading too much into it. He was still walking to the door with the mind of getting home to his family when it hit.

A ferocious blast of fire rained down upon his body. Everything was suddenly too silent, a hollow ringing in his ears, a deep thrum of spreading numbness in his bones. Blurred painted red soaking his face, drowning his lungs into death, burying him into the smooth earth, burning him to pieces of blackened, charred pieces. A deafening shrill scream registered in his head. Was it his two-year-old daughter, Annie, who was screaming at him to come back? _Shush, my dear, do not cry. Why are you crying?_ Flashes littered his vision, when suddenly another blast boomed in the distance. The creaking ceiling fell upon him, crushing all into nothingness. Before his last blink he remembered the smallness of his daughter's tender hand desperately pressed into his own, and smiled.

The hospital exploded, and debris and the unfeeling dead was all that was left. The second explosion brought the small hospital's structure down, reaching out to nearby roads and houses.

"_Takahashi Kenji, dies by 2150 hours."_

* * *

><p>AN: I have no excuses this time, so so sorry for the terribly late update. Hopefully the next one will be up sooner than later :) And a big thank you to everyone for all the support!


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